Coney Stew
by Raz Gaiale
Summary: Short story. Sam cooks some stew and does some reflecting. Slash! Nonexplicet.


Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them for a little while, and I promise to return them unscathed. That, or keep them locked in my basement for my own personal entertainment. ;) They belong to Tolkien, 'cause he's just that special. Viva Tolkien! 

Summary: This is when Frodo, Sam, and Gollum are in that nice lil' valley near Mordor. Gollum brought Sam a few rabbits, which Sam is using to make stew. Frodo is taking a nappy, and Gollum is off being slinky somewhere in the near vicinity. Sam is reflecting on Frodo. 

Warning: SLASH! That means male/male relationship. If you have a problem with this, DON'T READ THE FREAKIN' STORY! Last time I wrote one of these, I had people telling me how sick the idea was and everything. That annoys me to no end. If there's something you don't like about the story, please speak up. I welcome criticism. But if you don't like the idea of slash, go away now. Last chance. 

Please review! I'll love ya if ya do! J And feel free to email me if you feel the need. 

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Coney Stew

Sam inhaled the scent of the cooking rabbits. The strong scent brought back memories of cooking supper in the kitchen at Bag End. There, he would have all the things he needed to cook a proper stew, and more besides. Carrots, onions, taters, herbs, and plenty of fresh bread and butter. Sam would gather the ingredients from his very own garden. Frodo would offer to help, but Sam was adamant about doing it himself. Frodo never pressed too hard; he knew Sam liked to do things his way. The master of Bag End would sit by the fireside and read until Sam called him for supper. 

How Sam missed those days. He hated scurrying from place to place without rest, and trusting their lives to that loathsome Gollum-creature, and eating nothing but stale Lembas, and nursing a thousand different cuts and bruises. Most of all, he hated watching Frodo grow more sick and weary every day. The Ring was taking a horrible toll on his dear master. Sam could see it as he gazed upon Frodo's sleeping face. He was thin, far too thin for a Hobbit. There were dark circles under his eyes from lack of rest. His clothes were ragged and torn.

Still, there was a beauty about him that took Sam's breath away. The ivory skin, the soft curls that framed the peaceful face, the rosy lips. Frodo looked youthful and content, despite the physical changes that the Ring had caused. Sam was quite familiar with the features of his master. They had been friends for most of their lives, and Sam had loved him almost as long. 

Yes, Sam loved Frodo with a fierceness that sometimes frightened him. Even when he was young, he had known that he needed to have the other Hobbit in his life to feel whole. He couldn't identify the feeling for the longest time. Then one evening in Autumn, after the two had spent the day playing blissfully among the trees, it hit him. Frodo and Sam had climbed a sturdy oak to watch the sun set. They sat side by side on a branch, their arms around each other's shoulders for warmth, watching the sky weave itself into brilliant colors as the orange globe sunk behind a distant hill. Frodo rested his head against Sam's strong shoulder. Suddenly, Sam realized what the feeling was that bound him so tightly to Frodo. Love. Pure, simple, true love. 

It was that love that had led Sam to follow Frodo on his Quest. The need to be with his beloved master, to see him safely through his journey or to die with him, overrode his well-formed Hobbit-sense. It drove him to put Frodo's safety and well-being before anything else, and gave him courage he never in a million years thought he was capable of showing. Sam didn't expect Frodo to return his feelings. He found the idea that such a wise, beautiful Hobbit as Frodo could love a simple gardener like himself laughable. But that was all right with Sam. Frodo's friendship was more than enough. 

Sam shook himself out of these thoughts. It wouldn't do to let the rabbit meat overcook. He gave the stew a stir and a taste. He nodded his head in satisfaction. It wasn't what it could be, but it was a feast compared to what they had been eating for so long. A few more minutes and it would be done. A tiny rustling sound outside caught Sam's attention. He whipped his head around to see what the source was. His heart sunk to see Gollum coming back. Sam grumbled under his breath and continued stirring the stew. He hated that creature with a passion, knowing he would cause more trouble than he was worth to Frodo and him. And trouble to Frodo was something he could simply not abide. Gollum quietly entered the hideout and looked at Frodo over Sam's shoulder. Sam bristled at the near proximity. He turned his gaze one more time to Frodo. The stew was almost ready, and Sam would have to wake him soon. He hated to disturb Frodo's slumber; it was so rare for him to sleep so peacefully. But he had his master's welfare to think about, and perhaps the coney stew would remind him of better times back home. Sam sighed. Home. Where they could live, together, in comfort and happiness, and never worry about anything beyond their next meal. Where Sam could focus on making Frodo happy instead of keeping him alive. Where they could just be two Hobbit friends living out their lives with no Ring or Quest between them. 

But for now, coney stew would have to do. 


End file.
